


colours

by lofts



Category: Ackley Bridge (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 22:34:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15325875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lofts/pseuds/lofts
Summary: "after the tears, true love can startwhere there's a heartache, there must be a heart"[ colours - the avalanches ]something about naveed makes him the one beautiful thing cory’s life so desperately needs.





	colours

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote part 1 on varioud falmouth beaches after episode 5 and part 2 on a residential after episode 6  
> cw mention of abuse at the beginning x

Cory Wilson isn’t beautiful. Well, he is in the material sense, as many of the girls and a number of the boys would argue. But his life is ugly. A lot of things are good – his friends being the stand-out example. And yeah, he loves his brother. Adores him. Cory would, without hesitation, give his life for his brother. Sometimes, he wishes he was able to.

But when given the chance, he can’t. When Jordan is in danger, getting hurt right in front of Cory’s very eyes, and just bracing it, Cory freezes. He could jump in, rip their father away from him, give himself instead. But he can’t. He just can’t. So he stares, blankly, and watches. And that isn’t beautiful at all.

Jordan comes out the shower the next morning with bruises on his back. Cory pretends he hadn’t seen.

He goes to school. He does his work, plays his rugby, and sees his friends. He’s part of the drama production. For the most part, school is okay. Just another fact of life. Nothing special, and certainly nothing beautiful.

That is, until, one day in the changing room. The boys are making their way onto the field; Cory is waiting for Naveed Haider. He’s bringing him his drink before the match. All too willingly, perhaps, but he’s a good mate. Naveed Haider is a good mate.

Cory isn’t confident. Mr Bell says he plays beautifully, but today, things aren’t beautiful. Jordan has been kicked out. Two days ago, their dad snapped. The two boys were prepared or the worst; Jordan was tense, flinching, and Cory’s muscles were full of adrenaline. But when their dad told Jordan to leave, they weren’t sure if that was the better outcome. Cory feels like he’s hanging on by a thread. He’s tired, and his head hurts, and this match will not go well.

“I’m gonna blow this,” he says. “I know I am.”

Naveed looks at him like he’s thick.

“You’re not gonna blow this.”

He grabs hold of him. Cory surprises himself by leaning into it. He doesn’t even flinch – and Naveed is holding him pretty firmly. Were this anyone else, he realises later, he would have instantly recoiled. Naveed gets closer and starts shouting. It’s not violent. Cory likes it. He shouts back, “I’m not gonna blow this!” trying to convince himself. But the closer  
Naveed gets, the less he thinks about the match. As they stand there on their own, holding each other way closer than any good mates should, Cory’s mind is empty except for one thing: Naveed Haider is beautiful.

He doesn’t know the extent to which he means this. His personality? His attitude? His looks? Cory isn’t really in the right place to comment on that. But something about Naveed makes him the one beautiful thing Cory’s life so desperately needs. He’s just so positive, and kind, and good-natured. He never seems to do anything wrong. Cory looks at him and feels warm. He talks to him and feels safe.

Then he kisses him, and feels everything.

Compared to the countless others he’d shared, Cory really felt this one. It was different – and he wasn’t even thinking about the fact he was kissing a boy. It wasn’t empty, or meaningless, or just foreplay. He wasn’t thinking about anything else but this. All his problems were silent for a moment. He was warm, and safe, and everything. And it was scary.

Cory’s mind is completely empty for a second after they separate. When Naveed leans back in, Cory pushes him away. 

He blows the game, of course.

At home that night, things are ten times louder. His head is pounding, deafening, echoing with worry. On top of his concern for Jordan, now he has this. This… whatever it is. This beautiful thing, making things worse. Cory can’t comprehend it. He plays it over and over in his head until he starts questioning what really happened. Did he kiss Naveed or did Naveed kiss him? How did they get so close to begin with? How did they even become friends? His mind goes right the way back to how could such a beautiful thing be created? And how could he throw it all away?

Maybe Cory isn’t cut out for beautiful. Maybe he just needs more time.

-

A Midsummer Night’s Dream, as Naveed described it, is “to do things they never dreamed of doing, then just forget about it.” Cory said he wishes he could do that. Now he knows it’s not that simple.

Over the weekend, he doesn’t hear from Naveed at all. On Monday, Naveed doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t see Cory, and if he does, he pretends he didn’t. Cory doesn’t message him. He doesn’t – or can’t – speak to him. And suddenly, his way of solving a problem just made things worse.

“I want you all to hold hands,” Miss Keane says, before starting what will undoubtedly become a pep talk. Naveed is stood on his own to Cory’s right. He’s painted blue and silver and black, glowing, looking magical. Cory can’t help but think again, how could something so beautiful be created? He sidesteps, not so subtly, over to Naveed, hand out, blinding searching to hold his. He looks over and Naveed, for a split second, catches his eye. He grabs a hand, but it’s not his. He lets go quickly.

As soon as Miss Keane finishes, Naveed leaves the room. Cory has got to him, with his attitude that nothing happened, that they can just forget about it – well maybe he can, but Naveed can’t. He feels left behind. He likes Cory. He really likes him. Seeing Cory upset in the changing rooms was one punch in the gut; being rejected after they kissed was another. The snide remark about his sexuality earlier in the day made three. It’s pretty clear how Cory feels. So now with him trying to get close to him again – he saw Cory going to hold his hand – the punches just keep coming. Naveed doesn’t know what it all means. Maybe he’s the one who just wants to forget about it. Now he knows it’s not that simple.

He hears Cory follow him into the corridor. He keeps his back turned, purely out of stubbornness, but not sure why he’s still bothering. Of course he’s seen Cory, during the week and today, in his costume, albeit without the donkey’s head. And Naveed hates himself and his stupid teenage brain for still thinking about how good he looks.

“Naveed,” Cory calls, “you’re on.”

“I can’t do it,” Naveed says, keeping his back turned.

“Course you can,” Cory replies, with a skewed sense of déjà vu. “If we don’t have a Puck, we don’t have a play, do we?”

“What do you care?” Naveed retorts. Cory falters, and Naveed represses the immediate regret.

They both hesitate. Now, Cory is the one with a twist in his stomach. He feels immensely sad for a split second at Naveed’s spiralling self-doubt. He breathes out, leans against the concrete wall, and says, “well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

Yeah, Naveed thinks. Yeah, I guess you are.

Naveed still can’t bring himself to look at him for more than a second. But when he steps back and leans against the wall next to Cory, Cory is staring at him, properly looking, in far greater detail. The strip lighting makes the blue facepaint shimmer, accentuating the contours of Naveed’s face. He is literally glowing. He looks beautiful.

Cory’s stomach twists again, but in a different way. He reassures his Puck that he doesn’t hate him. He could never, really. There’s nothing to hate.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Naveed sighs. Cory’s mind replays the entire scene in less than a millisecond. Right, what happened. His gut hasn’t yet untangled itself. At this rate it never will. He feels warm and everything again, and then he feels scared, again, and the longer they stay silent, the worse it gets. Cory doesn’t know this stuff. What does he say? It’s okay? Deep down there isn’t a thought in his head that it wasn’t. I don’t mind? It sounds nice, but it’s a barefaced lie. Cory has been racking his brain all week, thinking of ways to rectify this. He minds, alright.

So he does what he does best – deflect. “You think I’m fit, eh?” he grins. Naveed laughs shyly after a moment. Back to normal for Cory, then. Just like that.

It isn’t working. “You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you?” Naveed turns to face him, and god, he looks terrified. There’s no conflict or confusion here. He knows who he is. He knows what’s happening. He’s probably known for a while. What scares him is anyone else knowing.

“No,” Cory affirms. “Course I won’t.”

All he can think as they speak to each other, heart to heart, getting slightly and slightly closer, is how much he wants to kiss him again.

Naveed is amazing on stage, naturally. And during his final monologue, Cory realises it’s better this way. Their friendship is good, pure, and valuable. He shouldn’t complicate this. On top of everything bad, he can’t ruin a good thing. Deep down, he’s not deserving of it anyway.

Maybe Cory isn’t cut out for beautiful. Maybe he just needs more time.


End file.
